Pebbles in the Stream
by Kendra Connell
Summary: The trials of a young Zeon officer as she and the crew of the Musai-class ship Obsidian fight their way through the One Year War.
1. Prelude: Crossing Paths

Date: 1/9/0075  
Location: Zeonic military academy, Side 3  
  
There were 10 minutes left till the bell would ring and signal to everyone in the Calculus class that they could leave for lunch. Many of the cadets tried to show some facade of seriousness, although many had food--and escape--on their mind. But that didn't stop the teacher, who was busy at the chalkboard, rambling on about the end of the equation he had sprawled across the large electronic screen with his 'pen'. As he finished off a trigonometric figure that completed the problem, he shut the pen down, and stepped to his desk. "All right, class, make sure you have this down, as it'll be going down as soon as I pass out the results of your mid-term. I hear a single groan and you'll be holding your desks over your head." With that, he stepped to the side and sat down, picking up the stack and skimming it.  
  
Most of the class mumbled under their collective breath and set to work only hesitantly, but one student in the front row began to record the equation without complaint. Her pencil flew across the paper, copying the numbers, letters, and symbols in small, precise print. Nami Iyoku--for that was the name neatly printed atop the paper she was writing on--was not particularly fond of this class, but she felt obligated to put some practical effort into it; after all, certain aspects of it might prove useful in the long run. Right now, though, even she was somewhat distracted--partly by her empty stomach, and partly by the thought of getting her exam back. She'd been so occupied by her other classes that she'd forgotten to study for this one, and lack of studying combined with lack of sleep were rarely a good combination, in her experience.  
  
It was only about ten minutes before the professor rose and shuffled his papers to get the students' attention, but it had seemed an eternity to Nami. She looked up at the sound, and the smirk on the teacher's face was not particularly reassuring. "Well now," he began, "if this weren't a military academy you were all enrolled in, this would be the part that I laughed and told you two people ruined your chance at a scale. But since it is, their scores merely show that the rest of you have something to learn." Nami saw many students begin to look about, curious about the two students he was referring to; she herself had to admit to wondering who the other might be--she knew that the rest of the class as a whole had neither the talent nor the motivation to do well, save for a few exceptions. Having actual competition might make things a bit more interesting.  
  
Neither she nor anyone else was surprised when she received a hand on the shoulder and a nod to go along with her paper, which was branded with a big red 95 encircled on the front. A rare half-smile crossed her face for a moment as she saw the number marked on the paper. Once the teacher had passed by, she skimmed through the test briefly, noting what mistakes she'd made and mentally filing them away for later review, forgetting entirely about the rest of the class.  
  
Her concentration remained uninterrupted until the teacher returned to the front of the room and began to speak again. "Well, now that you've all seen who will be telling you what to do the rest of your military careers, remember that it would be unwise to ruin your standing with them at such an early time with evil glares and ill thoughts. As a token of my mercy upon you all, I'll let you leave for lunch early. Be ready tomorrow for a new assignment and hopefully, a newfound outlook on passing this course. You're dismissed."  
  
The students began grabbing their bags and rushing out the door, many of them not wanting to waste another moment in the class that just so soundly ruined their GPA. Nami, barely suppressing a self-satisfied smirk, rose to join them, though by that time, only one other student remained in the room: as luck would have it, he was the only other one to actually put effort into the coursework, and she suspected that he was the one who'd received a grade rivaling her own. As she passed by him on her way out the door, she gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment--more recognition than she ever voluntarily offered to the rest of the class. Her pride wasn't quite such that she wouldn't give some small amount of respect where it was due, after all.  
  
A few minutes later, she was at her usual table in the cafeteria--far from everyone else, as always--with her lunch and calculus work spread out in front of her. Absentmindedly munching on a lettuce leaf, she started to work out the first of her errors, the encounter with the older student already far from her mind--which made it all the more surprising when she heard footsteps behind her. They stopped near her chair, and their owner spoke up, his mature voice standing out from the rest of the normal ruckus that was the cafeteria mass. "Excuse me... do you mind if I sit near you? I was sort of curious as to what my mistakes were, and figured between the two of us we might be able to solve each other's problems."  
  
"If you'd like." Had it been almost anyone else, she would have flat-out refused, but she was willing to give this particular student a chance. She cleared her things away from the spot next to her, allowing her new tablemate to sit there if he so chose. It would, at least, be easier to work together that way. Not once did the idea of having an actual conversation cross her mind.  
  
Before long, she heard the scrape of chair legs on the floor and the dull thunk of a full tray hitting the table. The shifting of papers soon followed, as well as a heavier sound that signaled the weighty calculus textbook being set nearby. When Nami looked up, the older student turned to face her, holding out a hand to her. "Ian, Ian Greydon... that other guy who shows half a care in Calculus."  
  
"Nami Iyoku." The comment, so close to her own thoughts on the matter, was enough to provoke another of Nami's half-smiles, and she took the proffered hand. "It's good to see that someone else cares about it. I'd almost given up on them." With the introductions finished, Nami fished around in her bag for her calculator and took a moment to finish working out the problem she'd begun before Ian's arrival. It had just been a minor calculation error--something she could have caught but didn't--and in its own way, that annoyed her more than if it had been something more major.  
  
Beside her, Ian began skimming his own work even while shaking her hand, before unfolding one of the sheets and laying it besides hers so as to make comparison easier. Nami's eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise when she saw the 94 emblazoned on the top. There was a brief silence while they both worked, then Nami heard his voice again."So, you must be almost through with all this schooling... what's your plans from here?"  
  
He sounded, as Nami had expected him to, like the young adult he was, rather than an old teenager. The question he asked took Nami somewhat by surprise, however--she'd been so absorbed in the present that she'd given the future little thought. With a small shrug, she answered, "Officer training, I suppose. I can't see myself on the front lines." She paused briefly to take a bite of her as-yet-untouched lunch before speaking up again, more out of a sense of obligation to keep the conversation going than anything. "What about you?"  
  
"I'll be going into vehicle work. Probably Mobile Weapons division." He took her cue to work on his meal as well, taking a short drink before continuing. "I don't really want to do anything frontline, I'd rather learn and spread the knowledge than go blazing into the front. So I hopefully will get into the rear guard. It's a tough position to get though."  
  
"Mobile weapons division, hm?" Nami considered this for a moment, then shook her head and set her sandwich down, picking up her pencil and calculator again instead. She knew little about the new weapons, and wasn't about to display her lack of knowledge. She had too much pride to let herself exhibit such a weakness. "Good luck with that," she said absently. "I've heard about the competition for those positions, although I'm sure you'll do fine, if this is any indication. I suppose," she added, the corner of her lips twitching up again, "that I'll end up helping direct things behind the scenes."  
  
"Well, with grades like that, I'm sure you'll be able to do whatever you damn well please." Ian laughed a bit and continued talking while Nami resumed her work, only half-listening to what was being said. "You should work on that strategy forte then, we might make a good team somewhere down the line. Pilot isn't much without a plan." He smiled, trying to raise her spirits and keep her mind off work. "Just have to do something you enjoy."  
  
"Hm." Nami paused in her work for a moment upon hearing that last comment. Doing something she enjoyed was a possibility that hadn't really been brought up in her family--but then, she had to admit that it wasn't much of a concern either way. After all, she did enjoy what she did; she was one of those with the good fortune to be talented at something she liked as, she was sure, Ian would be. For a brief moment, she smiled--not one of her usual mocking half-smiles, but a genuine one. "Maybe we will."  
  
Before he could respond, the bell rang for everyone to pass to the next class. Ian looked down at his barely touched lunch and laughed a bit to himself. "Some use that was." Getting up, he scooped up all his school supplies, and tossed them in his bag before grabbing his tray in one hand. "Well, see you in class tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah, see you tomorrow." As everyone around her proceeded to class, Nami took her time and neatly returned her books and calculator to their places, thinking as she did about the conversation she'd just had. A half-smile flickered across her features as she stood and shouldered her bag. It appeared that there was finally someone in her class at her level, someone she could associate with without feeling like she was lowering herself by doing so. For once, she left the cafeteria with a bit of a spring in her step.

* * *

Notes: Gundam and all related things are copyrighted by their respective owners. Also, part of the credit belongs to my roleplaying partner Enigma, who was kind enough to "play GM", as well as provide the dialogue for all non-Nami characters in the next two chapters.  



	2. Prelude: Bloodshed at Riah

Notes: This chapter pushes the fic's PG-13 rating somewhat. Proceed with caution.

* * *

Date: 4/17/0077  
Location: Side 6, outside 38 Bunch--Riah  
  
Ensign Nami Iyoku tugged impatiently at the sleeves of her officer's uniform as she waited outside her CO's office. He had called her down shortly beforehand; since they were nearing 38 Bunch, she assumed that this meant he had a job for her to do. This was what she'd been waiting for since she'd graduated from the academy: a chance to prove herself. She had to admit to being frustrated at being stuck on a mere supply runner when others were making history out there, but her time would come. Till then--  
  
The door beside her slid open with a hiss of hydraulics, breaking Nami's train of thought. Taking that as her cue, she stepped inside the office and snapped off a salute to her CO, who was seated behind the desk situated in its center. "You called, sir?"  
  
The officer straightened the papers in the folder he'd been perusing and set it aside, smiling at Nami. "Well, Ensign, this supply run is a little different. Do you think you can handle a little bit of vehicular work?" His tone was neutral; he didn't seem to be expecting her to accept or refuse as a matter of course, which was surprising. "We're doing a drop of some new equipment to the nationalists, and it needs to be piloted. Nothing serious, and you'll be covered by one of the Zakus on the drop... Up to you, Iyoku."  
  
It was an odd request to ask of someone in her position--specifically, that of one who had no experience with anything of the sort--but Nami saw no reason not to accept. This was the chance she'd been waiting for, a way to prove herself to her higher-ups. It wasn't exactly the manner in which she wanted to do it, but if she was being covered by someone more experienced, then things couldn't go too badly. "I'll do it, sir."  
  
He nodded, at her, obviously glad she'd accepted the offer. "Wonderful. Just remember, risks get you further in this world. We have 6 civil defense suits in the bay, and I'll depend on you to help everyone down there. I'm sure you'll do fine. Move out, Ensign." He gave her a salute, and as he lifted up his communicator, Nami returned the salute and left the office. Shortly, an announcement boomed throughout the shuttle. "Attention everyone, we'll be circling over the allied encampment in 4 minutes. Move out to the Drakens and prepare for the drop, all those assigned."  
  
Nami arrived in the bay of the Komusai with time to spare; before boarding the suit she was to pilot, she took a good look at it, being unfamiliar with the machine. While it was bipedal like the Zakus she was more accustomed to seeing, it was considerably smaller, with a less humanoid shape. The machine guns it held were scaled down to the size of the suit, and appeared to be intended for much smaller targets than the Zaku's massive 105-millimeter gun--all in all, it appeared to be a better choice than the Zaku for a mission like this, against enemies who were, for the most part, humans with human-sized weapons.  
  
Above her, a voice blared over the intercom. "You have three minutes to crash course in those things, so start reading those manuals. The skies are clear right now, so we're going to be dropping you while we have the chance."  
  
((Three minutes, huh? Let's see what I can do with it.)) Nami hastened into the cockpit, and by the time the announcement had ended, she'd secured herself in and picked up the manual lying on the cockpit floor. Flipping through it, she began to commit the rather intimidating controls to memory, looking up at the physical mechanisms every so often to help her properly visualize them. Though there was idle chatter going on between a few of the other pilots, the only sound coming from Nami's direction was the sound of pages turning. Three minutes was far too little time for even a crash course, but by the time it ended and the shuttle bay doors began to open, she felt that she was at least ready for a straightforward operation like this one.  
  
This sense of security did not last long. As Nami looked down though the slowly opening doors at the ground far below, the sound of an explosion roared through the bay, and the accompanying shockwave rocked everything aboard. Nami had next to no time to react before thedoors below ripped open and her Draken, its clasps prematurely opened, dropped through and began its inexorable and entirely too fast descent.  
  
((What the--!?)) The manual dropped from her hands and she scrambled for the controls, managing to halt her fall about halfway down. For a few tense moments, she simply hovered there in the little suit, her blood pounding in her ears, as she realized that her skill and luck were all that were between her and a painful death.  
  
The thought was not a reassuring one.  
  
The comm crackled to life, distracting her from her dark thoughts and returning her to a reality that was rapidly becoming worse. The normal chatter was covered by desperate pleas and screams, the source of which soon became clear. Two crashes came from below, the second followed by a cloud of dust from a now-ruined building--two Drakens, whose unlucky pilots had not reacted as quickly as the others, had fallen to their doom. A muffled explosion sounded near Nami, and she peered down to find another of the suits--now missing a leg, probably thanks to Feddie artillery--starting that same long drop.  
  
This last, as close as it had been to her, knocked her back to her senses. She swallowed in a vain attempt to moisten her suddenly dry throat and began to head to the assigned point, descending as fast as she was able to safely; she was a sitting duck up where she was. The com had quieted for the moment, as had the Federation fire, but in its own way, the deathly silence was worse than the chaos from earlier, and Nami struggled to remain calm and remember her "crash course". "Where was that pilot?" she growled, finding that focusing on the logistics of the situation rather than its emotional side helped her state of mind somewhat. "We could've used him just then..."  
  
Before long, Nami's Draken touched down at an intersection, followed by the other two surviving suits. It was peaceful here--almost too much so, considering the fact that the rest of the colony was a war zone. The comm remained silent and, strangely, neither Draken moved; Nami suspected that they weren't sure where to go. It would appear that she would have to take the lead. After a quick look at her surroundings to get her bearings, she started down the street that she was fairly certain the rendezvous point lay down.  
  
Luck was not with her today. Before getting very far, the trio of Drakens encountered a small troop of Feddie soldiers who had managed to find refuge from the revolutionaries. They looked surprised to have crossed paths with the suits, but surprise soon gave way to hostility, and they opened fire on the lead--namely, Nami's.  
  
The small bullets beat like hail on the Draken's armored hull without breaking through, and Nami reached almost absently for the machine gun controls in order to get them out of the way, before halting in mid-motion. This was what she'd wanted to do for some time, and she'd practiced it enough in training, but to actually do it... to kill another human being, Feddies though they might be...  
  
But on further thought, it had to be done. They weren't doing much damage at the moment, but they might eventually wear through the Draken's armor--or they might call for others with heavier artillery. Besides, they were just earthnoids, after all--mere obstacles in the road to Zeonic supremacy. Gritting her teeth, she brought the Draken's machine guns to bear on the soldiers, whose faces began to reflect the realization that they were finished after all, and fired, trying hard to push from her mind the panicked, pleading cries of the doomed Draken pilots and not entirely succeeding.  
  
To say that what ensued was bloody would be an understatement. Despite being scaled down, the Draken's guns were, it would appear, intended for use against armored vehicles and not human targets. The bullets tore through the unfortunate soldiers with hardly any resistance, and Nami was unsure whether the resultant screams came from the dying or the survivors. A few of the quicker ones managed to escape, and Nami had no desire to pursue them; they would be harmless, judging from their current condition, and she'd done enough as it was.  
  
As the survivors fled, she shut her eyes tightly, trying to forget the screams and the spray of scarlet that covered everything around, but the image had burned itself into her mind. There were shouts and gunfire in the distance--the luckless survivors had apparently at last encountered the nationalists. One of the pilots spoke up over the comm, sounding particularly pleased. "Wow, you got 'em. Great job!"  
  
"Let's go on," Nami said roughly, cutting him off before the compliments continued. They were just Feddie scum, but she still didn't like having to do what she'd done. The Drakens tromped onward in silence, Nami hoping that the rest would go smoothly.  
  
The remainder of the trip went without incident, and Nami felt a flood of relief rush through her when she caught sight of the crew they were to deliver the civil defense suits to. The leader waved in front of her own suit, and she opened the cockpit, undid her restraints, and climbed out without hesitation, grateful to get out of the damned thing.  
  
Once more, her luck refused to hold. As her feet touched the ground, yells and gunfire erupted from behind her. There were answering shouts from the colonists, who began to motion for the young officers to take cover. Nami, being unarmed and realizing that her officer's uniform would make her a target, obeyed and hid in the one place she could on the otherwise open street: behind the Draken she'd just vacated. Her cowardice galled her, but she had no choice--she didn't particularly want to risk dying pointlessly. Next to her, behind his Draken, she saw one of the other two officers, but the third hadn't gotten out of his suit yet. ((Strange, that...))  
  
Behind her, the fire fell silent, but was soon replaced by gasps and cries of shock. There was a split second of silence that seemed to last an eternity before the fire returned, much louder this time, as if a larger gun had just been brought into play. Nami shuddered as the screams of the dying reached her, interspersed with the deafening clangs of bullets striking and tearing through metal. Above her, her Draken was being peppered with holes--she was fortunate they hadn't managed to hit where she was. Beside her, the other ensign was looking up and away from her, his face pale. Following his gaze, she swallowed hard, feeling a cold shiver run up her spine, as she saw what had him so distressed. The third Draken, the one that was still occupied, had just taken a round through its cockpit. Almost as though its hatch were translucent, she could picture its pilot sitting there quietly, bent double, perfectly still.  
  
A round crashed through her own Draken's leg, not even a foot above her head--punching through it like paper, she noticed--swiftly bringing her back to reality. Realizing that she might not be so lucky next time, she crouched to make herself a smaller target. Even though this was shaping up to be a total disaster, she still had to try to survive it, though at this point, she was none too certain that she would.  
  
After what felt like forever, the fire died down, settling into an unnerving silence. Against her better judgement, Nami slid silently to her feet, using the Draken's punctured leg as support, and peered around it to take a good look at the damage.  
  
The results of this survey were disheartening, to say the least. The Drakens were bullet-riddled to the point where they resembled nothing so much as cheesecloth, and the young ensign beside her appeared to be in worse shape than Nami herself was. Beyond the three destroyed suits, the street was stained with crimson, in the midst of which lay the bodies of the revolutionaries who'd tried to defend them; many were barely recognizable, and there were things that she was quite frankly glad she didn't recognize. It reminded her forcibly of her assault upon the hapless Feddies she'd encountered; forcing back that recollection, she moved on and was gratified to see a few bodies clothed in red-stained Federation uniforms among the dead. Most of them, however, remained unharmed, and appeared to be proceeding at a leisurely pace towards her and her companion. She only got a brief glimpse of the walking artillery the Feddies had used before feeling cold metal being pressed against the back of her head.  
  
"Get up, and keep your hands up," a masculine voice growled in her ear.  
  
Hesitantly, she obeyed, triggering a burst of snide laughter from the Feddies. A quick glance to her side showed that the other ensign was in a similar situation. She felt her blood rush to her cheeks and bowed her head, trying vainly to hide her shame. This was the last position she'd expected--or, for that matter, desired--to be in; being at the mercy of these Earthnoid scum was almost more than she could bear. Her reactions brought on another chorus of mocking laughter and remarks from the soldiers crowding around the two officers, and she resolved never to show or feel compassion towards them again--why bother extending such courtesies to beasts like these? The spacenoids would prove their superiority in the end, starting with Riah.  
  
She'd nearly decided to do something about her situation, though she might get herself killed in the process, when a familiar metallic crash sounded in the distance, punctuated by the whine of actuators. When it repeated steadily, coming nearer each time, Nami allowed herself a self-satisfied smile. It would appear that her backup had shown up at last. Better late than never, at least.  
  
Around her, the jeering soldiers fell silent at the undoubtedly awe-inspiring sight of the approaching mobile suit, then panic began to set in. "It's the Zeon Zaku! Fall back!" Forgetting about their 'spoils', they fled hastily, taking their new weapon with them.  
  
As Nami dusted off her uniform sleeves, she noticed the young officer staring up at the occupied Draken. In a rather more subdued tone than before, he said, "I thought this was going to be something easy. They didn't tell us about this..." He paused for a moment. "What did he do to deserve that?"  
  
"He was a Zeke, like us." Nami's tone was bitter; though she had been a little shaken up earlier, now that she was out of danger, that was starting to become supplanted by a righteous fury. "They don't need any other reason."  
  
The Zaku arrived on the site before long, and set a hand on the ground for the two officers to climb onto. Nami clambered onto it, pulling her ally along, and let herself become lost in thought during the ride back to base. Apparently, the Feddies' weapon wouldn't do much good against a real threat like the Zaku; though the mission was a failure otherwise, they had at least gotten the chance to see it and assure themselves of that. She knew, too, that she had gone 'above and beyond the call of duty' and would probably get some kind of acknowledgment for it... maybe even--dared she hope?--a promotion.  
  
The prospect cheered Nami a bit. This had been a life-altering experience, but at least not all the alterations would be negative. She recalled a remark Ian had made once at the Academy: (('Funny how medals come from accidents and coincidence, isn't it?')) It had been a bit discouraging then, but now it didn't seem so bad. Every situation had to have its positive side, and this could only help her in the long run. Now that her resolve had been hardened, she couldn't help but see a bright future ahead, both for herself and for her homeland.

* * *

Note: The "walking artillery" was a MG-4 Depagg mobile platform.   



End file.
